


A refutation that comes dispassionately

by Ancastian



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 3 times effect, Alexis | Quackity Being a Jerk, Betrayal, Crumbling of esteem, Hurt No Comfort, Kind of gay but not really, Realization, it is what it is, mans dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:29:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ancastian/pseuds/Ancastian
Summary: "Naive and untouched. A fool. Laughing with only a tinge of bitterness." In which Quackity has to reckon with the legacy he's created slowly but surely.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity & Karl Jacobs, Alexis | Quackity & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Alexis | Quackity & Wilbur Soot
Kudos: 13





	A refutation that comes dispassionately

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 3 times progression of Quackity's character that was created to delve into what it means to care for something, so deeply that it's what you become in the end. There's some spoilers in it and the two first scenes are scenes that aren't written in canon. No beta, though I did have my friend check for errors. It's a relatively short piece I wrote for fun. Hope you enjoy <3

"What do you know, of democracy?" 

Asks Schlatt, red eyes that are keen on every reaction Quackity makes. Drinking in his emotions that are a livewire under surveillance. "Of democracy? I study the law baby," He cooes, a joke at the tip of his tongue he dare not mention. A half answer, always sure to leave an exit he doesn't have to close off. Leaning against the oak table he soothes his hands over the edges, taking a moment to return the question. "And you? Do you think," His throat closes up when he thinks of Wilbur, tall and lanky, and a hero. Broad shoulders and a broader influence that he's not sure he can trample. But an election is never a fair unless two plays that game. So with nervous naiveté he smiles at the devil in front of him, Quackity sucks in a breath tilting his head as he speaks, "Do you think you know anything, of democracy?" His mother had always told him that an animal unprovoked would cause no harm, but she was wrong. Standing in front of him was an animal who would cause harm, unprovoked. 

"Of course, what do you take me for? An idiot?" It's a rhetorical question, a deal that's on the nail of being sealed. "I'll lead this country, better than any damn person on this jack shit server ever could." And quackity knows he's fallen hook and sinker, in that lonely reckless abandon. Though he's been called leader material before, he knows he's not. Not when he watches as Schlatt lean back into his seat, so sure of himself with the tip of the world at his fingertips. Quackity's just a stock investor, and Schlatt's stocks just skyrocketed in the market. "Then," With dry lips and a raspy throat he leans forward, taking out a piece of parchment. "I have a deal for you, Mr. President." 

"What, do you know of democracy?" 

Yells Tommy, holding him up by his lapels, aqua eyes that are brimming with anger and betrayal. "I thought you were on our side!" He screams it like it's true into the open, and quackity tries not to laugh. "Tomas," He starts, raising his hands in mock defeat, "Don't fuckin call me that," Spits Tommy, pushing him back digging his heel into the grass. "Don't act like we're friends." So he steels himself, brushes off the dirt from his suit and gets up from the ground. "Are you an idiot?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest when he eyes down the child. "What?" He wonders if he should tell him, tell him that they were never friends. That he never felt as if this silly little server was ever a home to him. He wonders what kind of expression Tommy would make. "I asked," he states with more conviction, "if you're a fucking idiot. Did you think I did this election for a game? Did you even begin to think how much work I put into this? Did you ever stop and think that maybe," He puts his hand on his chest, leering forward with his mouth set in a thin line. "Schlatt and I would be better for manburg?" And it's all lies, all of it is a half-assed truth that he spouts with purpose. 

Still Tommy seems taken back, his hand floating towards his sword eyes widened. "Look, Tommy," He's taken the bait, all he needs to do now is lure him in closer and wring him up to the surface. "It's terrible what Schlatt did to Wilbur," No talk of Tommy, because they both know that's not what he's angry about here, "But, some things are necessary." He speaks softly, grasping the boy by his shoulder forcing eye-contact with the already shaken teen. "You should know this by now, shouldn't you?"  
He leaves with only mild bruising on his back, and his suit scuffed up by dirt. The future of manburg is looking much brighter. 

"What do you, know of democracy?" 

Roars Technoblade, his fingers shaking as he holds the pickaxe between his fingers. There's pain in his voice, and a heaviness in his shoulder that Quackity can't quite place. A momentary evil that he thinks isn't fit to be alive, It's a startling question, one he's heard too many times to count that fills him with rage. And his mask breaks, just a bit. "What do I know?" He starts, quiet and amused by the axe hanging between his legs that he grips with intent. "What do I know?!" He cackles, desperation leaking from his voice. Screw being nice, screw the second door, screw finding a way out in the dark. "I Know more than you, I've labored, more, than you ever would," He seethes - flashes of schlatt pouring another glass of wine, dark nights of being left alone in the office, Tommy's cruel grin when he watched the platform blow to pieces, the shrill fear he felt in front of wilbur, blood blood blood blood- "More, than you'd ever fucking imagine, Technoblade." Even saying his name is like razors upon his tongue. "This," He chokes upon a watery breath, "Was never about democracy, about government." 

It's a lie, it's all a lie he thinks vapidly. "I'm going to run this pickaxe," It's only a split second that he looks up, looks up at the anarchist who stands towering before him, tall and broad shoulders. "Through your teeth." Like a cornered viper, the only thing Quackity ever knew how to do, he bites. An unprovoked animal is much worse than a provoked one ever could be, he thinks lying in the pool of his own blood. Only the echo of Techno's footsteps sounding through the hall as he cries, cries for all he has lost curled up in that small hallway. He is utterly useless. 

"What do you know of, democracy?" 

Asks Karl, while he sits upon the table shifting through his papers. A worn smile falling upon his lips that tug uncomfortably at his stitches underneath the mask. Shuffling the papyrus into a neat stack, he places it next to where he sits. Propping his face up with slender hands littered with scars. "How much do I know, of democracy?" He peppers back sweetly, watching with kindred eyes of how the boy skitters with his words. Naive and untouched. A fool. Laughing with only a tinge of bitterness he stretches his arms, holding out his hand for the three, Sapnap, Karl and George in front of him. 

"Who's asking?"


End file.
